Fate (And Other Uncontrollable Things)
by our dancing days
Summary: For some reason, Remus, the talented, eccentric, heart-transplant patient, thinks he can save them. Lily. James. Peter. Sirius. Everyone. But fate's not finished with him yet, and your usual romance just won't cut it. / Muggle AU. Won Best Adventure Story in L&L's 2012 Genre Awards.
1. Sweet Serendipity

**Title: **Fate (And Other Uncontrollable Things)

**Summary: **For some reason, Remus, the talented, eccentric, heart-transplant patient, thinks he can save them. Lily. James. Peter. _Sirius. _Everyone. But fate's not finished with him yet, and your usual romance just won't cut it. / Muggle AU.

**Thanks: **Thank you _so much _to my part-time beta, _Paula. _She picks up on all the horrid typos that make me squint and shiver in horror. Thank you!

**Notes: **Honestly, I was bullied into posting this by a few Wolfstar-fanatics of mine - it'll span about 10 chapters, and I promise, a plot line will become evident, soon, and questions will be answered. Eventually. Feedback is much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 1 - **Sweet Serendipity

* * *

This was not what Sirius Orion Black had intended when he woke up at five o'clock two weeks ago, his neck aching from the awkward angle and his right foot slowly falling back to sleep. In fact, it wasn't what Sirius had intended _at all; _ever.

Nevertheless, here he was, at half past nine at night, the last hour of what had been the most hectic week of his life, leaning over a bed with his hands shaking.

"We need a crash cart over here!" He shouted out to no one, and nurses filtered into the small area of the public hospital, placing orange pads on the patient's chest.

"Charge to 200!" he shouted at a nearby nurse, pushing the pads down on the chest of the patient in the bed. He felt like a bad actor in some bad hospital drama, or a little kid playing doctors and nurses in the playground. "Fuck!" He swore, when the person still didn't respond. "Charge again!"

"Dr Black," Nurse Meadowes, or Dorcas as she was more commonly known, said soothingly from the sidelines, resting her hand on his shoulder, "there's nothing left. He's gone."

"_No! _One last try. Charge again!"

This was his last hope, his last shot to be a family, to have a future. This had to work.

"Sirius! For God's sake, stop! You can't do anything else! This _isn't helping! _Let him go!" Dorcas snapped, pulling him back.

"One last chance," Sirius whispered, nodding at the nurse, and waiting for the shock to run through the crash machine, and into the heart of his patient. "Charge!"

/

"_Good morning! You're listening to Bethany and Matt on BBC Radio 1. It's five o'clock, and here is Lee DeWyze with the song, 'Sweet Serendipity'. Tune in in half an hour to discover-"_

Sirius groaned dramatically, and hit the radio with a flailing arm. He blinked wearily and glared at the curtains, where he expected the non-existent sunlight to be. Then he realised it was, in fact, five AM, and there wasn't even a slim chance that the sun would be up.

Great. He was up before a gigantic ball of gas. Just perfect.

"An _hour," _Sirius groaned to himself, hopping round his room as he tugged on a stray sock that probably didn't match his other one. "One fucking hour til my shift. I'm such an idiot!"

Seeing as the room was empty, there was no one there to heartily agree with him.

Rushing round his small, apartment flat - the only thing he could afford with his F2's wages and F2's hours - Sirius brushed his teeth frantically as he searched for the keys that never, ever seemed to be where he left them.

"Sixteen hour shift," he grumbled, slipping one arm awkwardly into his leather jacket that was, as he was constantly reminded, inappropriate for work. "Stupid, ingrained politeness."

He was half way out the door before he realised he was still wearing slippers over his mismatched socks.

"I'm _so _going to be late. Minnie's gonna kill me."

The head consultant on A&E, Minerva McGonagall, was a prim, stern-faced woman who took delight in belittling Sirius and making up feel like he was a little boy straight back in boarding school rather than a trained medical professional at St. Mungo's hospital, Oxford Street, London.

Of course, when she had had a glass of wine, Minerva was the life and soul of the ward parties.

Sirius tumbled out of his flat, momentarily forgetting to lock the door, and had to jog back up the stairs, two steps at a time. He swore under his breath, and revved his motorbike, praying that there wouldn't be any major disasters.

By now, you would've thought he would've learnt not to jinx things so early in the morning.

Streaming through the traffic, checking his watch at every red light, Sirius almost didn't notice when his phone sounded and vibrated against his jean pocket.

"Christ," he said, pulling over to the side of the road, letting a few horns beep at him as they pulled away, and granting them his middle finger in the process. He held the iPhone to his ear (a gift from the overbearing leeches he reluctantly called a family) and hastily pressed the green button.

"-_goddammit, Black, answer the goddamn phone! Ah - _finally! _I've been trying for hours, Black-"_

"Minnie, darling," Sirius drawled into the receiver, "I picked up on the second ring."

"_The second ring isn't the first ring, now is it, Black? Look, where are you?"_

"I'm just heading up Charing Cross," he replied, looking up at the sign above him. "Should be at Tottenham Court Road in a few minutes."

"_A few minutes_," Minerva repeated in a monotone, sounding as though this was the worst answer he could possible give. "_A few minutes isn't good enough, _Dr_ Black. We've got an emergency here - big car pileup on the M6, complete carnage, happened a few hours ago. We're scraping up as many staff as possible; we've already had to move five patients to Durmstrang's, and you know how I hate Durmstrang's."_

"How many so far?"

"_At least twenty. Two deaths. We've got a pregnant victim being treated in here because there's no room in maternity, we've got a man who's this far away from being paralysed, a heart transplant patient with blood clots from here to New Jersey and one who's hyperventilating and attacking the staff. We need you here ASAP, Black!" _

Sirius unzipped his leather jacket.

"I'm on my way, Minerva." Because if he loved nothing else, he loved his job, and he had a duty to those people. He just wished that his duty could start at a normal time of day.

/

"Alright, alright, let me through!" Sirius yelled, but the room bustled around him, completely ignoring the little stethoscope around his neck - one that his friend got him as a joke for his twelfth birthday and that he had never gone a shift without. "OI!"

The room, more or less, fell silent.

"I am a _doctor _here, and unless you want an invite to at least five funerals in the next fortnight, courtesy of _moi, _then I'd advise MOVING!" He pushed through them all, and somehow managed to power through A&E and into the elevator.

Dear God, Minerva was going to _skin _him.

"You're incorrigible, Black. Why do we put up with you again?"

Talk of the devil.

Sirius turned around in the elevator and found Minerva McGonagall staring up at him from the corner. He gulped, and thanked any random deity that their ward was only on the first floor.

"Minnie, dearest! Oh, that hairpin looks fabulous on you! Are those shoes teal? I do love a bit of teal. Is it blue? Is it green? Such excitement! Now, hope you don't mind, I _may _have left Bessie round the back, you know, where ambulances park, but I'm pretty sure it's not against regulations. Maybe."

"Dear God, Black, if you weren't such a competent doctor I would..."

Minerva straightened her suit jacket, primed her slicked-back bun and brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her shoulder.

"You've got four priority patients Black - _don't _argue with me - all from the crash. You're the main doctor for your area, because basically every resident and consultant is in surgery. All other minor operations have been moved back, _with _consent, and basically everything down on A&E has been put on hold.

"We have at least fifteen crying children with various broken appendages, one girl with a melting M&M up her nose, and seventeen uncritical injuries that are taking up ward space. But they are _not _your priority. Do you understand?"

"Just a normal day then, Minnie. You _do _realise it's only six AM, right?"

"Six oh three, actually, which means you're late. But we'll take double that off your break time - _do not _argue. It's a bloody zoo around here, Sirius, and I need you _on the ball," _she growled, and she stepping out of the elevator, motioning to the cluttered, and now noisy, room.

The air hummed with the kind of frantic, chaotic magic that Sirius revelled in. It was thick with panic and worry and hopefulness, and reminded him of vinegar.

"Lead the way, then." He motioned to the first bed, where a pregnant, red-headed twenty-something year old woman sat with her arms crossed, one of them wrapped up in a sling. Minerva gave him a harsh glare, then retreated back a few steps to watch him.

"Oh. Goody. A doctor. I had the impression that those were rare in places like, say, _hospitals," _she growled. She was still in a cream-coloured dress rather than a hospital gown, and a trail of dried blood ran down the side of her face.

Sirius picked up her notes with a shiver.

_Lily K. Evans. Twenty-three. Pregnant. Lives with her next of kin, Mary McDonald, listed as friend but most likely semi-guardian, by the age difference... All other family deceased or unknown, blood type A Negative, etcetera... _

"I'm Dr Black, and, with your consent, I'll be the resident treating you today. Now, Ms... Evans. You're four months pregnant, with a head injury, a broken arm, and possible damage to the ligaments in your right leg."

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, I _didn't _know any of that information, thank you very much. Pregnant, you say? Please, tell me more." She stared at Sirius steadily, her arms still crossed. "And for god's sake, call me Lily. _Ms Evans _makes me sound like a middle aged woman with Thursday afternoon book clubs, bridge games and a crush on the pool boy."

"Well then, Lily, I insist you call me Sirius. And I can assure you that you definitely aren't middle aged, though you _are _pregnant," Sirius joked with a smile. Lily gave a reluctant one back, and fluffed up her pillows. "I want to take you for a few tests, mainly for your head and the baby."

"Of course," she said shortly. She ran a hand over her stomach lightly, her eyebrows slowly knitting together. "Will... will we be okay?"

"Of that I have no doubt," he replied charmingly. His smile fell. "Do you have any family that I can contact? Just to make sure that you're not here alone..."

"No. No family. Knocked up twenty-something, remember?" Lily scowled at him and sank lower on the bed, her boots clunking against the metal frame. She made quite a sight.

"Not the... father?" Sirius was always careful in asking this question. Women seemed to get overly protective of their maternal skills when mentioning a father, proclaiming that they didn't _need _men to rule their lives. Of course, Sirius was just thinking that men were needed in a biological point of view, but they always took it the wrong way.

"Not present and certainly not accounted for. Bloody egotistical bastard." He stared at her. "Well, the baby can't hear me, can she?"

"She?" Sirius repeated, looking down at his notes. The baby was _definitely _male.

"Well, I can't know for sure. But I'm quite certain. Or hopeful. Doesn't matter much to me either way, whether it's a boy or a girl; just a simple pronoun 'til they come out with a pink or blue blanket, right?"

"Right." He laughed inside his head. That baby - he - was definitely going to be a chip off the ol' block. And Sirius _definitely_ didn't want to be there for the labour.

He turned to one of the nurses measuring out a container of - well, Sirius didn't want to ask what. "Nurse Meadowes, can I get the regulars, plus an MRI, just to be on the safe side. We need a baby scan, too, and don't forget regular checkups. Thank you so much."

The nurse, only about thirty-five and complete with a beaming smile, nodded and trotted away, waving to an elderly gentlemen wearing a green bowler hat and not much else.

"Move that arm or leg, Lily, and I'm making sure that your hospital gown will magically shrink in the wash and all others will surprisingly vanish," Sirius told her mock-sternly, and Lily nodded, smiling. "Right we are. Onwards, my dear Minnie!"

"That's _Dr McGonagall _to you, Black. And I'd prefer it if you were a bit more professional with your patients. Now, we've got beds nine, eleven and thirteen left. Think you can count up to that high a number by yourself?"

"I got through med school, didn't I?" Sirius grumbled, half to himself as Minerva trotted away to skin another poor F1 who had just knocked over an IV drip.

"Ah, and you must be Mr Pettigrew!" He smiled to the man physically chained to the bed, picking up his chart with an interested look. "Sir, if you calm down, we can get security to undo the ties around your wrists and ankles."

"I don't understand what's happening!" The man squeaked. He actually looked younger up close - at a distance, Sirius would've guessed he was early to mid thirties, but he was probably about the same age as Sirius.

He checked the notes and nodded - _Peter A. Pettigrew. Twenty-two._ _Post traumatic stress disorder. History of mental illness. Possible head injury, cracked ribs, kidney damage... Lives alone, next of kin is mother, blood type O Positive, blah, blah, blah..._

"Now, Mr Pettigrew. What do you do?"

"Excuse me?" The man asked, stopping his struggling.

"What do you do, as a job? I'm sure it's quite exciting."

"I - well - I work in photography, actually. I was driving my new camera to Yorkshire when - bam! This happened. Probably smashed to pieces right now, but the paramedics wouldn't let me check the wreckage for it at all. Cost a bloody fortune, and you honestly don't know how many wedding pictures I took to save up for it, too!"

"Well, Peter - do you mind if I call you Peter? - I'm sure I can get the police to look for it for you. If not, I'm sure you can claim on your insurance. The accident wasn't your fault, after all."

Sirius placed the clipboard back on its holder and walked up to the side of the bed.

"I'd prefer Pete," the small man said timidly, relaxing against the constraints.

"We're going to take good care of you, Pete. Your injuries are minor, compared to some, and the surgery you'll need is routine. We have some of the best doctors in the country on site, I can assure you, and that's me being modest," Sirius reassured him, patting his arm gently, and gaining confidence when the man didn't flinch. "Now, can you not bite our nursing staff? Then we can get to work and get you back in top form again."

Peter nodded sullenly, and slowly turned an unflattering maroon colour. "I _am _sorry, Doctor. I'll behave better, I promise."

"Please. Call me Sirius. Now, let's see if we can't get rid of these straps and take some tests, yes?" He nodded at the security guards who hovered nearby, then turned to Nurse Meadowes, who had miraculously arrived on the scene again.

"Let me guess... Regulars, X-ray, cat scan..."

"Wonderful as ever, Nurse Meadowes," Sirius told her with a smile. She scuttled away with a nervous smile. "Now, Pete, I want you to press the button if you feel _any _discomfort, okay? I'll make sure our nurses are here straight away, and let's see if we can't fix those ribs."

Right. Now - bed eleven. Oh, how he hated bed eleven. It was tragically known for being the bed that no one healed in. Bed thirteen was for the ones with not much left in them; usually elderly, usually only at the hospital for the food and the company rather than to be cured. Bed nine was for the slightly harder, but treatable, ones.

But bed eleven was a bed no one liked to visit.

"Ah. Mr Potter. We meet again."

"Do we?"

James Potter had unruly, black hair, wire framed glasses and a constant grin. He, like Ms Lily Evans, had so far refused to change into the classic hospital gown.

"Well, no, but it sounds more dramatic that way!" Sirius laughed as he looked down at his notes. His smile faltered.

_James H. Potter. Twenty-one. Diagnosed ADHD. Severe damage to base of spinal cord. Most likely confined to a wheelchair, possible movement achieved with intense physical therapy. Next of kin: unlisted. Blood type: B Negative. Dr Black's diagnosis: goner. _

"What's your name, then? Bet it's something posh. Like Reginald. Please tell me it's Reginald," Mr Potter pleaded, pressing his hands together and pointing them to the sky in a mock prayer.

"Sirius, actually. Sirius Black."

"The name's Potter. James Potter," Mr Potter said with a smile. "And call me James, not _Mr Potter; _it reminds me of my dad. God knows, I loved him, but come on; my hair isn't receding yet." He pulled on the mess of curls - definitely not receding.

"Alright, James. Not Jamie?"

"Jamie. Too pedestrian. Boring. I have an S in my name and I intend to use it." James winked and leant back against his pillows.

"I'm guessing you want the truth," Sirius said bluntly.

James's smile didn't slip.

"Just tell it to me straight, Doc. I've got it coming, haven't I? Now that you mention it, I thought my night light was looking a little bright. And coming nearer. And that _is _a white lab coat, am I right? Do you have wings?"

"James," Sirius warned him slowly. "There's been severe damage to the base of your spine. It's... irreparable. We can try our best, try and realign it, but it'll be tricky. A lot of risky surgery. And there's no guarantee that it'll work, or that you'll be alive to see it if it does."

He glanced down at the wheelchair next to his bed.

"There's wheelchair basketball, right?" He didn't look up at Sirius.

"I'm sorry?" Sirius asked, taking a step forward. James fiddled slightly with the hospital-white blankets and breathed in deeply. Sirius knew that smell off by heart - antiseptics and antibiotics and sterilizer mixed with blood, sweat, tears and vinegar.

"I'm a football player - chances of getting into the professional league, you know. I was in the under-16 team for Arsenal, back in the day, and they've signed me up for the reserve team.

"It was always a dream of my Dad's more than mine; hated it as a kid, in fact. But I really got into it in secondary school, and when I was accepted with a chance to do my degree too... I couldn't resist. Don't suppose my dad can complain now, though. He's always pushed me, but I don't even know if I can get a wheelchair onto the football pitch."

"I'm so sorry, James," Sirius told him and James tapped a rhythm on the arm of his new, hospital-issued wheelchair. Finally, he glanced up, and smiled.

"Not your fault, mate. And as I said, there's always wheelchair basketball."

"There's still a chance..." Sirius looked down at the ground, and he patted James on the shoulder. "Well, you know the drill. You'll be able to use the wheelchair soon, but we'll wait for everything to settle before we try it. I'll check up on you later, okay? Your vitals are good, but we'll run a few X-rays..." He sighed. "There's always a chance, alright? I'm a doctor and I've seen miracles."

"I'm a footballer and I've seen West Ham crawl back into the premier league," James joked, but his smile was softer, and his hands were shaking. "Cheers, Sirius."

"We'll get there."

Sirius smiled, and moved over to the next bed. He took a deep breath, and pulled back the curtain.

His smile fell.

"Mr..." He looked down at his notes, swallowing loudly and flicking the papers with shaking fingers. The man in the bed looked like a ghost. His skin was pale, there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his fingers shook where they clutched at his hospital gown. "Mr Lupin."

"Hello," Mr Lupin greeted him mildly, sitting up straighter. "I'm guessing my hair colour isn't as grey as you'd imagine?"

"I'm sorry?" Sirius said again, and inwardly, he cursed himself. He had to start listening to people - or borrow someone's common sense.

"Rumour has it that this bed is usually for the - erm - older patients. Or just patients with a death wish." He looked down at his body. "Well, I don't ride motorcycles through rings of fire, or anything like that. Though my heart seems to think I do."

_Remus J. Lupin. Twenty-two. Heart transplant patient. Minor injuries from car crash, most likely on the way to St. Mungo's anyway. Lives alone, brother listed as next of kin. Blood type: A positive. First on heart-transplant list, been waiting since the age of seventeen._

_...Shit, _Sirius thought.

"Well, the good news is that you're the top of our list, Mr Lupin - Remus. We should be able to operate by tomorrow, at the latest. You're very lucky."

"I've waited a long time for this, Doctor-" He leant forward, peering at Sirius' identification badge. "-Black. _Sirius." _Remus stressed the name with a smile.

"You have indeed," Sirius said faintly.

"Will you be doing the operation?" Remus asked, drumming a catchy beat on his bed. He looked healthy for the conversation; his smile was lighter, his eyes brighter. He'd come to life right in front of Sirius, all for a few words and dry jokes.

"No, unfortunately I won't be," he reassured him, pointing again to his badge, "I'm only an F2. No heart transplants for me yet, though I might see if I can scrub in."

"I don't understand how you can be a doctor. Meeting people, treating people; saving them _and_ watching them die. It's all rather... maudlin," Remus told him thoughtfully.

"Maudlin's the word," Sirius said with an uneasy smile. "Are you sure you understand all about the procedure...? The risks, the-"

"I've been waiting for this for five years, Doctor Black. I've done my research."

"I'm sure you have. Just have to please admin." Sirius shuffled his notes noisily, trying not to let the patient see how much he affected him. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd be going in for risky, potentially-life saving heart surgery, and he was making jokes on his deathbed.

"Ah, Mr Lupin!" A voice trilled from behind him. Sirius whipped around to see Minerva, teal shoes and all, grinning like a tiger behind him.

He gulped.

"And how'd our favourite transplant doing?" Minerva asked Remus, who gave a brief smile in return. "Mr Lupin is a frequent visitor, though usually to the Gryffindor ward - definitely not us and definitely not A&E," she added to Sirius.

"That's right, Dr McGonagall. I can't get enough of the place. Must be the Jell-O," Remus said drily with a charming, fake grin that stretched across his face.

"Isn't it time for your break, Dr Black? If you've done your rounds, that is." Minerva cast a sideways look at James, who was shamelessly attempting to chat up Lily two beds down.

"Right." Sirius glanced at Remus. "If there's anything you need..." Remus gave him a wry grin, and waved his now-shaking hand. "Well. Good day, Minnie!"

He ran before she could insult him further.


	2. 1984

**Thanks: **Once again, thank you _so much _to my fabulous beta, Paula, who has taken the time to correct my god awful typos. _Thank you, dear!_

**Notes: **And if you've stuck around for chapter 2, I wanted to say _thank you so much _for all of your lovely comments on the previous chapter. I promise there will be more romance of the Wolfstar and Jily variety soon! As always, feedback is much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 2** - 1984

* * *

Sirius leant against the coffee counter. He gave the waitress a tired, but charming, smile, and she bustled to fill his order - latte, two sugars, and half a chocolate chip muffin. Looking around the staff cafeteria, he almost wondered why it was so busy. A&E was in tatters (Minerva's hair had even begun to come out of her bun) and yet everyone seemed to be nervously chatting away over a ham sandwich and the soup of the day.

He sighed.

Sirius thanked the waitress, and took the coffee cup, which was probably polystyrene and probably not recyclable. He sipped it and grimaced; something about this particular brand of Hospital Cafeteria Coffee was always different that the regular.

He thought about his patients still in the ward upstairs; Lily would be an easy case with a few of their specification pain killers, as long as the leg didn't give her too much trouble. She'd be on her feet by the afternoon. Peter would need some, _um, _mental assistance, but a good, pay-hourly psychiatrist would probably cure that.

James and Remus on the other hand...

Sirius took a bite of his muffin, still deep in thought.

"Jesus!"

He stepped back almost immediately; a man had seemed to jump out of nowhere and now his burning, Hospital Cafeteria Coffee was dripping through his fingers and onto the floor.

"I am _so _sorry; I honestly wasn't looking where I was going - unsteady on the legs, you see, and - Sirius?" The man babbled, but when Sirius looked up, he saw the gaunt, apologetic face of Remus beaming down at him. He smiled back.

"It was probably my fault, I wasn't exactly paying attention either," Sirius reassured him, shaking the liquid from his hand. He hissed, but he knew the burn wouldn't be bad; and he had seen his fair share of burns.

"I can buy you another coffee, if you'd like? I can just get my bag and-"

"Wait," Sirius cut him off. He scrunched his eyebrows together, studying the patient. He was still in his robe and - shoes? "Shouldn't you be _resting? _Right, I'm getting you back to bed. You really shouldn't run off, Min- Dr. McGonagall will have both our heads." He hurried him towards the elevators, making sure to keep a tight grip on the man's wrist in case he suddenly struggled to stand. "Don't worry about the coffee, by the way. Not the best I've tasted by a long shot."

"Hospital Cafeteria Coffee," Remus commented wisely, looking down briefly at Sirius' hand on his wrist. "I didn't mean to plot my great escape, I just needed some air. Can't stand hospitals."

"... Yeah," Sirius agreed unsurely. "Are you sure you're alright? About the operation?"

"I've accepted my fate, if you will," he assured him.

"That's quite a negative outlook," he wondered aloud, pushing the up button again and sighing.

"Is it?" Remus asked. There was a ding, and the metal doors opened. An elderly couple, a young nurse, and a tall man all hurried out, almost knocking over Remus as they did so. Sirius scowled after them. "I wouldn't say so."

"It sounds as though you don't believe we can make our own destiny," Sirius muttered. He was a firm believer that everyone had their own lives; there wasn't a "higher power", whether it was a God, karma, or Santa Claus. Chosen paths seemed a little farfetched for him; he barely knew what bus to get on.

"Not quite," he mused, "but kind of. I like to think some things are set in stone, such as meeting people and - well, accidents like car crashes." They shared a wry smile. "Other than that, we're probably on our own."

The elevator chimed, and the doors reopened to reveal the stressed, pinched face of Minerva McGonagall.

"And just _where _did you run off to, young man?" She snapped at Remus, striding off to bed thirteen, and standing with her arms crossed by the side of it. She raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"_Minerva," _Sirius warned her. She tended to get a little over-zealous at times, and was extremely protective of her patients, especially the ones due for surgery. She was rather like a mother tigress. Who occasionally liked to eat her young for breakfast.

"I just went out to get some fresh air, Dr. McGonagall," Remus told her with a chuckle. If anything, her expression became fiercer. "I took the necessary precautions - I even snagged a young doctor to help me back."

He winked in Sirius' direction; Sirius blinked.

"Look, I'm all in one piece - four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes... Although I _did _drop my spleen on the way here..."

"This is no time for jokes, Mr Lupin! I expected better, honestly. Your surgery is very technical and precise, and we do _not _want any complications once we're in theatre. Clear?" Remus saluted her. "Dr. Black, a word please."

She closed the curtains around Remus' bed - again - and turned to face him.

"And just _what_ have I told you about letting patients wonder round the hospital? It's dangerous for both them _and _the staff; what if something had happened? What if - are you eating a muffin?"

Sirius looked down at his half finished muffin, and swallowed the chocolate chip he had been sucking on.

"I was called away from my break," he explained, rather unnecessarily. At Minerva's glare, he sighed and wrapped his muffin back up and put it in his jacket pocket. "Yeah, yeah, I know; no food on the wards..."

"I expect a full report on Mr Lupin by lunchtime. Are we clear? That's all the tests, MRI, cat scan if you have to. I want those lab results _as soon as possible. _No excuses." She trotted away before Sirius could even begin to argue.

Sometimes, he almost wished he worked for his family. Sirius shivered at that thought; _maybe not, then._

Sirius pulled back the curtains to find Remus tucked up in bed with a book - _1984. _He grinned.

"Fellow George Orwell fan?" He asked, leaning over to check his IV drip. He nodded, satisfied, and turned back to his patient. It seemed as though Remus had dog eared a good number of the pages, and he even recognised a doodle in the top right corner of page 159.

"That man is a _god, _I tell you," Remus replied, smirking as he folded back the corner of that page as well. He got a pen from the chest of drawers beside him, and wrote something in the margin.

"What are you writing?"

"Well, you know how most people keep a journal?" Sirius nodded. He held the paperback aloft. "My version."

"You do realise that... that's like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa," Sirius told him, scandalized. Remus' laugh rang out across the ward.

"Maybe so. It's not a first edition though, so don't worry - and I just wrote _lion _on the side. Nothing blasphemous."

"Why lion?" He asked, honestly curious now, sitting down on the side of the bed. He was still waiting for the test results back from the lab for his other patients, and he knew that Dorcas could handle it until he got there. "Because this isn't a veterinary hospital yet. I keep trying to convince Minnie, but... no luck yet."

"It's for Dr. McGonagall," Remus whispered, with a glance at the nurse's station where Minerva was standing. "She kind of reminds me of a lioness. Protecting her pride and all that."

"Really? I thought she was more like a tigress; you know, eating her young if they're not fit enough."

Remus sniggered again, sounding healthier every time he did. His face no longer looked gaunt, or grey; he looked almost _normal, _and that most definitely wasn't normal for a patient ill enough to be waiting five years for a heart.

"Cruel, Sirius. Cruel," he said between shakes of his shoulders.

"It's the build up of sexual tension," Sirius told him mysteriously, but his grin betrayed him. "Poor Minnie, she does love her one night stands, but they're never fulfilling enough." He shook his head.

Remus shivered dramatically. "I did _not _need those mental images. Next you'll be saying she's into bondage, too - oh, _god."_

He groaned and held his face in his hands. Sirius almost fell off the bed from laughing.

"I'd better get back to my other patients," he said regretfully, looking over at Lily, who was currently berating a nurse for complimenting her on her boots whilst trying to convince her to take them off. Peter had, yet again, been restrained to his bed.

"Oh, have fun. Don't forget about little old me while you're having fun with the vomiting and such," Remus told him cheerfully, propping up his pillows and reopening _1984. _

"I won't," Sirius promised with a sincere smile. He stood up, squared his shoulders, and approached the pregnant red-headed woman in pain.

_Why _wasn't a question that had crossed his mind yet.

"Lily, dearest," he drawled, leaning against the heart monitor that beeped at him warningly. Dorcas, the nurse present, retreated hastily with a muttered goodbye and an extremely audible sigh of relief. Lily, though dressed in her hospital gown, crossed her combat-boot-covered ankles.

"Your point?" She growled.

"It's for health and safety, you know," Sirius told her seriously, eyeing the boots with mistrust. _God _knows how many bacteria she had tracked in with them.

"I _realise that," _Lily snapped, sitting up straighter. "I just don't appreciate being treated like a criminal because I'm single, knocked up, and my boots are the most comfortable shoes that support my ankles now, because apparently they have doubled in size and don't appreciate _stilettos!" _

She then paled.

Reacting on instinct, Sirius grabbed one of the cardboard-like bowls and shoved it towards her, holding back her red hair with practised ease as she grabbed it with the one hand that wasn't in a sling.

"Bet you've done this for your girlfriend a fair few times," Lily groaned. She wiped her mouth with the tissue Sirius handed her. "I'm sorry. The baby's winding me up and my head is pounding like a bitch."

"It's no problem at all; it's my job, isn't it? And nope, not a girlfriend," Sirius told her with a smile, passing the bowl to the hovering nurse - a new one this time, Nurse Karen McKinnon, or was it Kristy? - and handing Lily a glass of water.

"Boyfriend, then?" She asked with an evil smirk and a lift of an eyebrow that Sirius was _sure _Minerva had taught her.

He snorted. "Touché."

"I'm right, then? I'd brag about my gay-dar, but it's practically non-existent. My last boyfriend was gay. Ran off with a forty-year old Latino called Perez, the day I moved in."

"Ouch," Sirius winced, knowing exactly what it felt like to be abandoned for the opposite sex. "And yes, you were right. But don't tell the nurses; it'll break their hearts. They're convinced I'm a lothario heartthrob who's playing hard to get." He shook his head solemnly. "I don't have it in me to let them down."

Lily laughed, and patted the bed. "Sit down, Mr Gay Lothario Doctor. You can spare time for a dying woman in her last moments."

Sirius rolled his eyes, sitting down on the edge and surreptitiously skimming over his notes - her vitals seemed good, and her head injury wasn't serious. "You're not dying, Lily."

"Tell it to this one!" She said, energetically gesturing to her stomach. "Ooh, these mood swings. Seriously. Also, I could do with a hamburger. Actually, skip the burger. Just give me a cow."

"What's the situation, then?" Sirius asked, earning himself a classic death glare. He held his hands up in surrender. "Just curious."

Lily sighed. "Fine. Five-night stand; barely constituted a relationship, if you ask me. He was quite the looker, if he put his mind to it; a genius in science, but not much else. Buggered off quickly after realizing I wasn't just going to be his "bit on the side". Bloody stuck-up bastard, could barely see through his own ar-"

"He sounds perfectly _lovely,_" he interrupted, mindful of the other patients on the ward. "And family?"

"One sister," Lily offered tightly. "We don't talk much. She didn't approve of many of my life choices; going into journalism, for one. Staying out of the kitchen, for another."

"Sounds like just another one of your standard bastards, if you ask me. You're much too good for the likes you hang around with Lily; what went wrong?" Sirius asked jokingly, smiling at her kindly. Her heart rate had increased slightly, the beeps closer together.

"It's the hair. It puts people off. And I just naturally attract bastards."

Sirius laughed appraisingly. "Well, if you say so-"

"DAMMIT!"

He turned round, looking past Peter (untied, now, and eating one of their famous pots of Jell-O) and finding James sprawled on the cool hospital tiled, his wheelchair tipped over beside him. Sirius swore under his breath, and stood up quickly.

"What? What's happened?" Lily asked frantically, trying to peer past Sirius. He waved her off.

"Shit," he muttered. "Lily, I'm sorry, I've got to-" He rushed away, to James' side. "Okay, calm down, James. Just breathe. It's shock, you've taken a nasty fall. Nurse McKinnon, can you help us please? Where the _hell _is Nurse Meadowes?"

"I don't know," Kristy or Karen said, picking up the fallen wheelchair and hurriedly sorting out the bed covers.

"Right, careful..." Sirius one arm round James' shoulder, scooping him up and being mindful of the bandages still tied around his middle. "Almost there, James, you're doing fine..."

James shook his head weakly as he was placed on the bed. He was shaking and breathing heavily - he'd probably taken out a few of his stitches and bruised his spine, maybe even knocked it out of place. Sirius pressed a few careful fingers to his abdomen.

James hissed from the pain, but didn't scream from agony, which he would have done if he'd knocked his spine even further. Sirius sighed in relief.

"I think we've just got a bit of bruising, so we're going to re-do the bandages, alright?" He nodded feebly. "What were you thinking, James? You know you're not strong enough to get into the wheelchair by yourself yet, at least not for today, and even if you were lucky, you wouldn't get far without physical therapy."

"I feel useless just sitting here," James muttered. "I know you said I had to wait, but I _couldn't. _I'm not used to just sitting here."

Sirius nodded, understanding him completely.

"You're not going to be able to just wheel out of this hospital as soon as you get the thumbs up, you know. It's going to hard. You'll need someone to wheel you, at least for the first few weeks, and you'll have to have physical therapy, probably for six months or more. Wheelchair basketball could be in the future, yeah, but not the near future. Okay?"

"I do understand, Doc, it's just that... I don't know. I thought I'd be able to do something, as soon as I get out of this bed. Not the case, huh?" James asked, sighing.

"As I said: we'll get past it. Just no getting out without assistance, okay? Ask Nurse McKinnon, or Nurse Meadowes, if she ever gets back from her break."

Sirius looked around, but didn't see any dyed blonde hair.

"Excuse me?"

Both of their heads whipped round in unison. Lily was seated there in her own wheelchair, in all her pregnant, red-headed glory, barefooted in her hospital gown and cradling her arm. She was smiling.

"I just wanted to check you were alright. I heard the commotion from my end." Sirius stared at her; where was cursing, fire-cracker Lily Evans? And who was _this? _"I'm Lily Evans. Pleasure to meet you." She stretched out her good hand. James smiled back.

"Why, hello," he purred, as though he didn't just have a minor panic attack, and Lily laughed, rolling her eyes. "James Potter. The pleasure's all yours."

"Oh," she said, looking at Sirius with a mischief in her eyes that made him want to turn tail and run. He was suddenly thankful he never had to sleep with women; god, were they _devious. _"It looks like we've got a live one, Doctor."

She wiggled her eyebrows, and Sirius thought about her previous comment - _"I just naturally attract bastards."_

He stifled a laugh.

"If you're going to stay here for a bit, Lily, you can make sure he doesn't make another great escape. Alright?" He looked between them. "I'll be back in a bit, check up on both of you." Sirius smiled and gave them a shaky, but cheery, wave.

He secretly reckoned they were both just a little bit mad.

Sirius tapped Nurse McKinnon on the shoulder. She was eating a bagel; Minerva hadn't picked on _her _for having food on the ward. "Are you _sure _you haven't seen Nurse Meadowes?" He huffed.

"No, Sirius, I _haven't. _She's probably still on her break."

He sighed, and picked up his clipboard, resting against the nurse's station desk. It was all looking okay so far; he'd probably end up dropping in on Frank in a minute.

"Well, aren't they just your classic Romeo and Juliet," a voice said cheekily from behind him. Sirius whipped around to find Remus leaning against the counter, watching James and Lily with wry amusement. At least he didn't have shoes on this time.

"They've only just met," Sirius replied back, though it seemed that James was one of the better bastards that Lily had drawn to her.

"Exactly. What did you _think _the story of Romeo and Juliet was? Love at first sight, and all that," he said, waving a hand in their direction.

"Should you even be out of bed? You're braving the tigress." He smoothed down his suit jacket, pulling his white coat tighter around his shoulders. He tapped a rhythm against his knee as he observed the ward. His side was mainly silent, with James and Lily muttering in hushed tones and Peter dozing off, and Remus, leaning next to him.

"Lioness," Remus corrected idly, tracing a pattern on the counter top.

He was holding _1984 _in his other hand.

"Can I look?"

He hugged it closer, and shook his head. "Later, maybe. I'm making it kind of like a memoir. Each chapter is a new chapter in my life." Sirius gave him a look. "Sappy, I know, but it's better than writing _Dear Diary." _However, he shook his head, and held out one yellowing page.

The little 9 at the top, marking the start of the chapter, was underlined twice, and above it was written, simply, _Jell-O _in curving, shaking italics.

Above the words 'Hate Week' was written _lion._

And the doodle that Sirius had seen him drawing earlier was a little, artistic face drawn in biro, with long, dark hair and eyes with more detail that should have been allowed in such a small work of art, and a long nose and strong jaw -

It was him.

Sirius blinked a few times. _Oh._

"It's good," he said, vaguely stroking the fraying paper. "It's _really _good. You ever think of being an artist?"

"Considered it," Remus muttered, and he took back the offered book. He held it carefully, like one would with a prized possession. "I decided not to, in the end. Too many _commissions." _He shivered. "I don't know what I want to do yet. I took English Language at Uni - 'til I had to leave, that is. Because of 'medical reasons.'" He sighed. "Wouldn't have minded writing, I have to say."

"Still the chance," Sirius assured him. He pointed to a few lines, cluttered and cramped in the margin. "That's inspired. _'If the human race is known for one thing, and one thing alone, it is that we always fall for the _tragic _and _beautiful. _This is why martyrs die young and beauty fades under the hardships of war and love. The human race is contradictory, and imperfect, and we'll never be anything else.' _I like that."

"Just a few thoughts," Remus waved off the praise, but his ears had started to glow.

Sirius sighed as he spotted Nurse Meadowes appear at the other side of the ward, where one of the residents - Doctor Longbottom, though everyone called him Turnip because no _normal _head was that shape - was doing rounds.

"Now, you get back into bed, mister," Sirius warned him. "Minnie _will _eat you. Starting feet first."

"Gotcha," Remus promised, and he shuffled back to his little bed area, waving at James and Lily as he walked past, whose eyes followed him, bewildered.

Sirius had the impression that Remus made a lot of people feel that way.

"Nurse Meadowes," he called, and she turned around. He gestured for her to come over, but met her halfway anyway. He leant in close. "Dorcas, where have you been for the past hour? Your break's fifteen minutes; you know that."

"I know, Sirius," Dorcas sighed. "I just-" She rolled up her sleeve, showing him two nicotine patches. "Trying to quit. Spent the first forty-five minutes forgetting that, then the last fifteen attempting to get rid of my stash."

"It _is _just cigarettes, isn't it?" Sirius asked, concerned. He'd seen this before, on patients attempting to quite pain killers and such cold turkey, usually reverting to other substances. And overdosing.

"Of course!" She snapped.

"Right, right," he assured her, taking a step back. She took a few deep breaths. "I'm just concerned. It's not like you, Dorcas, and you know it." She nodded, her gaze becoming less focussed on him and more on the wall behind. "Well, if you're sure you're alright..." He gave her a last dubious look, then walk to the other side of the ward where Peter was waking up.

"Pete! How are we feeling?"

"Like I got run over," the patient under the blankets replied in a monotone. Mousy blonde hair appeared on the pillow, and blue eyes popped up, staring at Sirius.

"Well, I suppose that's a good sign. You definitely haven't lost your memory," Sirius replied with a chuckle, checking the heart monitor. It was a bit slower than usual, but that was probably the morphine wearing off. "Just doing routine checks, and you seem as healthy as expected."

"Have you asked the police about my camera?" Peter asked timidly, sitting up properly and looking Sirius in the eyes.

"Not yet, Pete. I promise I'll do it by lunch, okay?"

"Sure thing," he muttered. He looked over at James and Lily. "They seem to be hitting it off."

Sirius tilted his head, as though trying to see the scene from a different angle. Lily was currently hitting James with her combat boot. _Young love at its finest, _his inner voice sighed, but he shooed it away and turned back to Peter.

"Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Oh, yeah! You should see the wedding pictures I've taken. The bride is _always _hitting the groom in at least one, but they'll have kissed and made up by the next three or so."

"Huh," Sirius said. "Can't say I understand women myself." _Or that I want to..._

"Me neither, Sirius," Peter agreed, nodding sagely as though this was an extremely wise observation. "Me neither."


	3. John Keats

**Thanks: **I honestly don't know what tangent I'd go off on if it wasn't for Paula, a charming older lady who takes time out of her garden bed to be my beta. Love you, darling!

**Notes: **Well, it's back? And guess what - some semblance of a plot! I can't believe people are actually reading this weird, character development piece, but I'm so glad you are; thank you, and on with the show!

**P.S. **Also, if you see the name Carter jotted around, it's because I originally had another character called Carter who dropped in every now and again, but I decided to not make any OCs and gave most of his lines to Sirius. I've tried to edit it as best I can, but one always seems to slip through. Apologies in advance!

* * *

**Chapter 3 - **John Keats

* * *

Sirius relaxed in his chair. After being ordered by Minerva - _after _completing his rounds of his supposedly _only _patients - to go and help in paediatrics until his lunch break, he was glad to get a rest. As much as he loved screaming kids... he hated screaming kids.

"Rough day?" Nurse McKinnon - he _really _had to learn her name - asked, joining him as he munched on a ham and cheese panini from the _Pret a Manger _across the road.

"You could say that," Sirius said tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. "More like a hectic two hours. Complete with finger paint."

Nurse McKinnon winced.

"Well, I had an insane bloke chanting my name over and over." Sirius perked up. "Literally. I'd just walk past his door and hear _Marlene, Marlene, Marlene _over and over again! It was as creepy as anything." _Marlene. _He had been close with Kristy and Karen.

"Bad luck," he told her sincerely - he knew insane guys, and while some were lovely, others were... not so lovely, to say the least.

"I'm probably going to need a drink after my shift," she commented idly, but she looked up at him through her eyelashes and Sirius groaned. _Great. _"Would you-"

"Sorry Marlene," Sirius cut her off, smiling sadly, and desperately trying to hold his panini together. "I can't tonight. I've got a complete sixteen hour shift, and... well, I'll probably want to sleep, you know, catch up for the next day."

"Oh!" Marlene exclaimed loudly, her hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Oh, right, of course! Yeah. Sorry, Sirius, I-"

"It's fine. Maybe another night, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah!" She smiled at him, collected her papers and files, and left the room.

Sirius looked down at his half finished panini and suddenly didn't feel very hungry. He chucked it in the bin on the other side of the room, and left too - he wasn't going to be doing anything else this lunch, so he figured he might as well sit outside.

He made his way down, deciding to take the stairs rather than the elevator, and made it to one of the half decent benches just outside the hospital.

Sirius peered out over the car park - ambulance sirens could constantly be heard in the distance, and cars came and went, taking patients with them. Sirius sighed and leant his head on his hand.

He didn't know why he had become a doctor; he'd always been alright at science, though music was more his thing, and it seemed the natural path to take. He wasn't going to get anywhere playing those goddamned instruments of his. Musicians never made it far unless you relied too heavily on luck - everyone knew that.

So Sirius had gone to med school and passed with relative ease; he'd made friends and lost them, and had an alright time along the way, even though his family were constantly hovering over his shoulder.

He hadn't talked to them since the obligatory family dinner. Being the firstborn child, they had piled all of their hopes and dreams and aspirations onto Sirius' shoulders from a young age; he was very close to resenting them for it now.

"Melancholic thoughts always make me crave chocolate," a voice said from behind him. A bar of chocolate was being waved in front of his face.

"How d'you keep doing that?" Sirius asked as Remus joined him on the bench. He shrugged.

"I'm secretly a ghost; I died on the operating table and have come back to haunt you." There was a shocked silence. "Sorry, sorry. Inappropriate joking about death, not a good idea around doctors."

He whipped out his aging copy of _1984 _and scribbled something on page 165.

"Do you just carry that around with you everywhere you go?" Sirius wondered as Remus tucked his biro back into the front pocket of his hospital gown. The man flicked through a couple of the pages; a few of them were falling out, but held in by cellotape and glue and care.

"Pretty much," came the muffled reply as Remus wrapped a scarf around his neck.

"It's autumn," he said, looking around at the orange trees and rare sunshine.

"It's winter," Remus retorted, "and I'm ill. I get cold easily; my immune system is practically hibernating now, though it'll be up to duff as soon as I get the transplant."

"I forget," Sirius replied, looking out at the trees that are starting to gain more colour. "You seem so healthy a lot of the time... but I forget how much you must be suffering." He shook his head, mindful of the person next to him. "Sorry, I just-"

"Hey, it's fine," he assured him, leaning back and stretching out his legs. "I'm kind of used to it. And if I have to put up a few appearances for family and friends to make sure they're happy, then I'll do it. No question."

"It shouldn't be like that," he said, frowning. He kicked a stray leaf on the ground.

"Well." Remus shrugged. "I don't want to worry them. Worry doesn't help anyone, least of all me." He looked up at the sky, and growled low in his throat, obviously frustrated. "I could kill for a fag."

"They'll kill you, you know," Sirius told him without thinking; it was his normal response, as a doctor. He never saw the appeal, after all. "God, here I go again. Sorry."

Remus smiled. "You say that a lot. And I figured, I can't do much more damage. My heart's already given up, my lungs might as well join the parade. But then I got on the transplant list, and..." He spread his arms wide. "Cold turkey. Two years. Quite impressive, in my book."

"Mine too," Sirius agreed. "No nicotine patches or anything?"

"Nope." He grinned. "They affect the nerve system too much. But that doesn't mean I don't have my weak moments."

"What, like mere hours before you go into surgery?" He commented sarcastically, but he quickly found that Remus' grin was infectious - he almost couldn't stop the twitch of his lips as the tawny-haired man laughed at his own misfortune.

"Does seem rather ironic, doesn't it?" He shook his head in amusement, his feet swinging below him.

"Just a bit," Sirius acquiesced, watching the man's legs swing like pendulums in a slow and steady rhythm.

"My eyes are up here, Sirius." His head snapped up, and he blushed deeply. But Remus was still laughing, the corner of his heavy eyes crinkled and his shoulders attempting to ease their shaking.

"You're an odd one," he told him honestly, and Remus - again - opened up his little journal-ish book, and wrote a few words in between the thin gaps of the lines in the text. He squinted down at it then nodded, satisfied. He had closed the book again by the time Sirius had thought to look over.

"We'd better go back," Remus said sadly, looking defeated. Sirius nodded.

"If you have to wear a scarf in the hottest October for a century, it's _definitely _time to go back." Together, they wandered back into the hospital, Sirius waving to his various co-workers and Remus waving to his co-patients, whether he knew them or not.

"You like doing that, don't you." Sirius phrased it as a passing comment, rather than a question; he already knew the answer after all.

Remus smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He didn't reply.

They reached the elevators, and once again, Sirius pushed the up button and waited for the _ding._

"Do you ever wonder...?" Remus started, but he trailed off, studying the waitress; the same one who had given Sirius his hospital-cafeteria-coffee. He motioned for him to continue. Remus cleared his throat. "Do you ever wonder if you're not where you're meant to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you ever think that you don't belong where you are - that you should be off, seeing the world or writing a novel or becoming Prime Minister or _something."_

"... All the time," Sirius answered honestly, because he didn't see any point in lying.

"Me too," Remus whispered, and the elevator doors opened once more. They both stepped inside the cramped space, and pressed the same button - level 1. "Me too." It dinged, and they stepped out onto the word.

It still smelt like vinegar.

Remus walked back to his bed relatively easily, but his shoulders were hunched forward more than they were before, and his steps were ever so slightly slower. Sirius watched him with worried eyes, then remembered what he had said.

"_Worry doesn't help anyone, least of all me."_

Sirius squared his shoulders and marched over to Lily, who was finally back in her own bed after a few hours conversing with James.

"Sirius," she drawled. "I do believe you've been neglecting me in favour of the strapping young blond with _1984 _attached to his hand." Sirius smiled guiltily.

"And would you, my Lily flower, deny twoo wuv?" He pouted down at her and she reluctantly sniggered, in a rather unladylike fashion. Then again, Lily didn't exactly seem one for knitting and tea parties. "How are you feeling?"

"My arm hurts like a bitch, my leg's had an argument with my nerve cells, my head feels like a bulldozer got angry with it, and the monster growing inside of me is attempting to eat my uterus."

"... Relatively normal then, that's good. I've got your results back, and your head seems alright, just a slight concussion. You shouldn't put any weight on your leg for another hour or two, and then let's see if we can't get you properly walking around the ward."

"Joy," she said drily.

"Hmm," Sirius hummed, looking down at her notes. Freelance journalist, lived with a woman older than her (family friend?), bad relationship with her family... "Lily?"

She looked up from where she was playing idly with her fingernails. "Yes, Sirius?"

"Do you ever feel like you should be somewhere else? Like, not just in this hospital, but with your life as a whole?"

Lily seemed to be thoughtful for a few moments before she finally answered, "I think everyone does, on some level. But I've always felt a little out of place in my life, like it's not really mine and I'm just borrowing it until I can get my real one back on track. Does that sound weird?"

"Not one bit," Sirius said surely. "That made a perfect amount of sense."

"I think that just means we're psychos together, Sirius," Lily stage-whispered, rubbing her stomach and grinning like a shark. He grinned back, then left with a nod; with a flick, he inserted the notes back in the holder.

"Pete! How are we doing, my man?"

Peter, who had been thumbing through a collection of photographs obviously from his lone salvaged bag, looked up with a small smile.

"I'm going alright; my head's still - well - doing my head in." He gave a weak chuckle. "My camera-"

"I was literally just about to ask," Sirius reassured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure that the police, or at least the paramedics, would have found it by now." He gave him a brief nod, then hurried back to the nurses' station and dialled the number rapidly into the phone.

"Hi, this is Dr. Sirius Black of St. Mungo's, and I was calling on behalf of Pete - Peter Pettigrew. Yeah, that's right. I was wondering if you had found a camera in the car wreckage? You have? Yup, that's it. Cheers, that's brilliant. I'll tell him straight away. Okay. Thanks again!"

"Pete! Brilliant news, mate!" He came to stop at Peter's bed to find the curtains closed. Frowning, he threw them open and found - that it was empty.

"Pete?" Sirius called out weakly, as though he would be hiding under the bed.

"_Fuck!" _He cursed. He quickly fumbled out of the curtains, and raced towards the nurses' desk again. He wrote a quick note, then, after a quick sweep of the ward, he raced down the steps leading, once more, to the main lobby of the hospital.

"Peter!" He yelled into the wind. A few people turned round to stare at him, but most carried on eating their godforsaken ham sandwiches and soups of the day.

"PETER!"

"Have you seen someone called Peter? He's shorter than me, with blonde hair, blue eyes, a bit podgy round the middle? No? Dammit, PETER!"

Sirius sprinted to the back of the hospital, where the gardens were. He did a quick scan and found nothing, and was about to turn back and search the car park properly before he heard a noise. _Click, _something went. It whirred and sounded oddly like a mini terminator. _Click and repeat. _

He turned round the corner, and sure enough, Peter was lying on his stomach with an old fashioned camera, taking a picture of god knows what.

"_Peter," _Sirius begged, and the man looked up with a shy, toothy grin.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, it's just that you started talking about cameras and I still had this one in my bag, and I had to photograph _something, _you know? And I saw this place from the window, and it's really perfect for using translucent materials and light manipulation..."

"Alright, Pete," he said reasonably, but he crouched down next to him. "We can take more pictures next time, okay? I just need to make sure your head's alright before you can go. Let's get you back to bed."

Peter nodded, and slowly, unsteadily rose to his feet. He swayed a bit, but stayed upright.

"And _no more running away," _Sirius added as they started walking back. "You scared the shit out of me, Peter."

"I really _am _sorry," he told him sincerely, sniffing against the sudden wind. By the time they had made in back to the ward, Sirius' heart rate had calmed to a normal level, and Peter's had increased dramatically. He sighed.

"Now, I'm going to need you stay in bed, and take some of these-" He prepared a syringe of 10mg of morphine, and found a vein. It went in easily. He re-did the IV drip, causing Peter to whimper, and re-fluffed his pillows for good measure.

"You won't send me away, will you?" Peter begged, holding onto Sirius' hand with a strength he didn't know he possessed. "_Will _you?"

"No, of course I won't, Pete," Sirius whispered to him, and his eyes began to fall, heavy from the sudden dose of morphine.

When he was finally asleep, Sirius stumbled back and groaned; this was dangerous territory. _Caring about patients. _That's what made him almost fail as a med student. He'd learnt by then, surely?

"It won't work, you know."

Sirius blinked slowly. He'd almost expected Remus, but he was in bed, hastily scribbling into his little book. James, instead, was looking at him from over the top of the sports section of _The Sun._

"That's a crap newspaper," he commented absent-mindedly, walking properly over to the bed. "No decent content. Too many celebrity scandals and not enough cats being saved from treetops." Sirius sat down in the chair next to him; basically all the consultants and residents were in theatre, performing miracles, so the ward was empty, save for the nurses and him, it seemed.

"Maybe so, but it has the scores. I missed them last week." He held the paper aloft. "Arsenal won one: nil, against Queens Park Rangers. Bloody sadists. They sell their half decent players and then they're surprised when they barely scrape through their matches."

"Wasn't that a few days ago?"

James shrugged. "I was training. Too busy to properly check; I knew we'd won, though, but still: _Queens Park Rangers. _Jesus."

"That is a bit pathetic," Sirius agreed, though his level of football knowledge basically surmounted to David Beckham, the ginger one who looked like Shrek, and teams like Arsenal, Chelsea and Man U. "Are we ready to get into your wheelchair?"

"Yeah!" James shouted enthusiastically, sitting up straighter. "It's been lonely since Lily's been told to stay in bed. Until _she _can walk, that is."

"Lily, eh?"

His ears turned red. "Oh, she's brilliant, Sirius. Really ace." He looked past Peter's bed to watch the red-head, who was, again, arguing with the nurse, this time about the bangles on her wrists. "Completely nutters. But ace."

"Let's go and say hi then, shall we?" Sirius asked with a grin. He stood up, and rolled the wheelchair closer. "Right, _careful _this time..."

He lifted him up, one hand under his knees and the other just around his waist. James used his hands to propel himself upwards, out of the bed. With a bit of effort, he collapsed into the chair, smiling triumphantly.

"Told you I could do it, Doc!"

Sirius' smile fell, and he gripped the handles of the wheelchair so tightly his knuckles turned white. James was a good guy; a weird combination of arrogant, shy, enthusiastic and intelligent. He probably would have made it big time, if it weren't for the accident.

_The accident._

That's what they were all calling it, but no one really knew what happened. Rumour had it that Nurse Meadowes - Dorcas - had actually been driving up the M6 when it happened. Narrowly avoided the whole thing by the sounds of it.

It had been complete carnage; Minerva had cornered him just before lunch - another two had died up on Gryffindor, the floor above that dealt more with surgery. Their ward was more the investigation-types, like detectives of doctoring.

In fact, the only reason Remus and the others weren't up there with Gryffindor was because they were full, no beds spare.

"You alright, Sirius?"

Sirius looked down, and realised that James had been silently and patiently waiting for him to move. He nodded, smiled, and without needing to ask, wheeled him to the side of Lily.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in!" Lily said gleefully, laughing as James pouted.

"Bloody witch," he muttered under his breath, but on the surface, he grinned up at her and, just as Sirius let go, he wheeled closer. He held her hand, and said, "Lily. Would you do me the honours of sharing my pudding?" From his front pocket his pulled out a rare chocolate mousse he must have been hoarding - the nurses only gave those out when Gryffindor didn't need them, and usually only to their favourite patients.

Lily gasped.

"Oh, Jamie, you shouldn't have!"

He grinned as he popped open the container, along with the little white plastic spoon it came with. Lily attempted to manoeuvre her good arm, which was on her left rather than her right, over to take it, but groaned as it pulled on her broken one.

Wordlessly, James dipped the spoon in the pudding, and lifted it to rest at her lips.

Sirius cleared his throat and made his excuses, even though neither of them heard him, and left.

"Optimists," he muttered. "I really hate optimists."

"We love you too, sunshine!" Remus called from his bed, turning the heads of quite a few of the nurses. He grinned back at them, and waved at Sirius using his _1984. _He made a note quickly - one that seemed to be written upside down - then looked back up and gestured for him to come over.

Sirius made his way back, apologising to Peter, who had been woken by Remus' shout. Peter waved him off, smiling, mumbled something about the weather, and went back to sleep.

"You really shouldn't shout on the ward, you know," he admonished him lightly. "It disturbs the other patients who aren't quite as mad."

Remus' grin widened.

"What are going to do, Sirius?" He asked innocently.

"I could take away _1984, _and give you the crappy sequel, _1985," _Sirius warned. "I'll even write it myself for the occasion." Remus hugged the book closer to his chest, looking like a child who had just been warned about stealing out of the cookie jar and was now being threatened with the removal of his favourite toy.

"That's cruel," he growled.

"Ah, that's justice, my friend." He nodded sagely. "No more shouting about sunshines and whatnot?"

"Alright," Remus grumbled good-naturedly, and he left the book resting on the chair next to his bed, his biro still tucked into his pocket. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods? I would've thought you'd have other patients. Weren't you in paediatrics earlier?"

"I was," Sirius said, "but that was because the lioness sent me down there. They've got enough staff now... It was just the backlash of the accident - most of the people that were in it are up in Gryffindor; that's another section, the surgery ward."

"Why aren't we up there?" He asked, gesturing to himself and the other patients on Sirius' side of the ward.

"It's too busy, apparently," he grumbled, casting his eyes upward. "We usually have the harder cases - you know, the ones where we have to play detective, try and figure out. You're all quite obvious cases."

"I don't know," Remus mused, "I reckon I could have a tapeworm."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"And have you been to the Middle East recently? Or Africa? Didn't think so. But I quite like it like this. Upstairs is still flying papers and frantic running - that's where Minnie is at the moment - but for some reason, it's quiet down here." He shrugged. "Odd."

"So why aren't you checking up on the other side of the room? There are 'bout five beds there, right?"

"They're not my 'area'," Sirius explained, framing the word 'area' with air quotes. "I'm only supposed to cover you four, and when you were all stable this morning, I was sent up to help paediatrics. And now, because Lily should be walking soon and James needs to get control of his wheelchair and Peter needs his medication, I'm here, talking with you."

"That is... ridiculous."

"No, no it isn't! I do have a purpose here. Honestly."

"If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong."

"Alright, I get it," Sirius said, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I _was _going to check your temperature and get you some more pudding, but if you don't want me here..." He turned away, chuckling to himself. After Remus made a noise of distress, he chucked the pot of vanilla pudding over his shoulder, and a muffled _thump _signalled that Remus had caught it.

"I would've eaten the pudding!" Lily called over to him as he made his way towards her.

"I know you would've. You ate his _first _pudding," Sirius informed her, rolling his eyes again.

"He called me fat," she complained, sitting back against her pillows. "Completely uncalled for. He's lucky he's adorably insane, or I might've thrown my combat boot at him."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and he would've thrown the flower vase in response, you would've torn a page out of his book, he would've snapped your bangles, and hence, I would be able to watch World War Three erupt right from the cafeteria, drinking my coffee, possibly behind bulletproof glass."

Lily sniffed indignantly.

"Right, let's see if we can't get you walking..." He held out an arm, and surprisingly, she took it. Her hands shook as she lowered her feet gently to the floor - it was odd for them not to make a huge _clunk _as they did when she was wearing her boots. Hesitantly, she stood up.

Her grip on his arm tightened, and she swayed where she was. She moaned, and looked down at the bandages on her leg.

"Careful, careful," Sirius warned her, and he quickly handed her the crutches that had been leaning against the wall. She smiled at him softly, half in thanks and half in pain.

Lily took a step forward.

"Oh, thank god," she breathed in relief. "I'm _not _paralysed!"

There was a silence. Sirius sucked in a breath, and Remus looked up from his book. Peter watched with nervous eyes, and James... James just stared.

"No, James, I really didn't mean-" Lily's voice was cut off as, with great difficulty, James leant forwards to attempt to close the curtains. Sirius rushed forwards and helped, cursing himself as James' hurt expression disappeared from view.

"I didn't think," Lily whispered, and from the other end, Peter snorted.

"I didn't either, Lily," Sirius said regretfully. "I shouldn't have let you start to talk in full view of James, it wasn't fair to either of you. I'm sorry." He coughed and looked down.

"It's not either of your faults," Remus called out to them, carefully slipping out of bed and walking towards them on unsteady legs. "It's the fault of a woman who had a fit and accidently skipped three lanes without looking. It's the fault of the van driver who swerved to avoid her.

"It's our fault for getting up early, and driving on the M6 at that specific time. Basically, it's not _anyone's fault."_

They both stared at Remus as though he was some two-headed prophet.

"Well, it's true," he grumbled, and he straightened his hospital gown, obviously for something to do. Sirius grinned at him.

"You're right, Remus," he said energetically, and he bounded over to James' bed, which was still hidden behind the curtains. He quickly motioned for Remus and Lily to entertain themselves, or something like that, and they nodded and started a conversation about William Golding and _Lord of the Flies._

"James?" Sirius murmured. He peeled back the curtain slowly, so that James would see him before he was completely visible.

"Hey, Doc," James replied, his voice dull and his eyes sad.

"You know she didn't mean it, don't you?" He asked sincerely, sitting down on the bed, carefully avoiding James' legs. "I mean, Lily's Lily. One day, and we both know what _that _means." James nodded with a faint smile that wasn't anywhere close to his usual hundred-watt grin.

"I don't want to be useless," he admitted, tugging at one of the fraying seams on his sleeve. "That's the one thing I always tried not to be; useless. A _burden."_

"You aren't _anyone's _burden," Sirius informed him fiercely and passionately. "And you most definitely are _not _useless."

"Oh, come on, Sirius. What am I supposed to do with two legs that won't work?" James asked, frustrated and upset. "How am I supposed to do _anything?"_

Sirius stayed quiet for a few moments before he replied, "Be yourself. Play wheelchair basketball. Go shopping and see movies and live like _normal. _You're going to get out of here and you're going to go to physical therapy and you're going to get one of those awesome wheelchairs, and you're going to ask out Lily Evans and recite John Keats and she's going to say yes. Alright?"

James just stared at him.

"Oh, come on," Sirius said impatiently, "You know it's true. Anyone can see that."

"Yeah," James said, and one side of his mouth quirked into a small smile. "Yeah, I can live with that."

He grinned. "Brilliant."

"Dr. Black?" A stern, but shaky, voice asked from behind the curtain. "May I have a word?" Sirius exchanged a look with James, clapped him on the shoulder, and stood up. He parted the curtains and came face to face with Minerva.

"What is it Minnie? I was going to give Pete - I mean, Mr Pettigrew - his painkillers just now, if that's what you're wondering..." His voice faded. "What?"

"Sirius, I'm sorry. There's an investigation. You need to be questioned, all of us do..."

He held up a hand to stop her. "An _investigation? _An investigation of _what?"_

She took a deep breath, and bit her lip. "Someone's been stealing the heavy painkillers, Sirius - and they want to speak to you. Now. It's a drugs investigation."


	4. Wizard of Oz

**Thanks: **As always, the amazing Paula has aided me in my conquest of the written word, and even spotted the odd Frank-instead-of-Peter randomly thrown in for unspecified reasons. Thank you, darling!

**Notes: **_Finally. _I know, right? It's about time. But since the last chapter, this story has actually _won _Best Adventure Story over at L&L's Genre Awards! Can you believe that? This has actually _**won **_something! Thank you so much, to all of you, and without further ado, on with the show!

* * *

**Chapter 4 - **Wizard of Oz

* * *

"No, Minerva, there's a mistake. I don't _do _drugs. When I was a kid, yes, but do you think I'd be able to make it through med school high on co-codomol and ibuprofen?"

"It's not _just _ibuprofen, Sirius!" Minerva snapped, leading the way to one of the boardrooms on the third floor, where the offices of the Big Boys were. She dragged him into the waiting elevator, her hair standing on end and her nails scraping into his skin.

"Then _what?" _he yelled, and he was suddenly thankful that they were alone.

"Morphine, Sirius. The - the _worst _ones. If we had crack and heroin in our cupboards, they'd be gone too! And it's _only _on our ward, so it must be someone on _our ward _who has a key! Guess who that boils down to, Sirius?"

"You," he whispered carefully. "Marlene, Dorcas, Longbottom and-" He stuttered to a stop, and swallowed deeply.

"And me."

"_Exactly," _she hissed. "Exactly. And I know _I _didn't do it, Sirius, and Longbottom wouldn't do it, he most likely doesn't have the brain cells. Marlene's a bloody saint in high heels and come on, _Dorcas? _Who does that leave?"

"No," Sirius protested, shaking his head and curling his hands into fists. "No, Minerva, you don't get to accuse me like that. That is _substandard, superficial, coincidental _evidence, and I won't have it. I'm an F2, do you really think I'd want to fuck this up now?"

"I don't _know!" _Minerva yelled, and the elevator voice announced that they had reached their destination. "What am I supposed to think, Sirius?"

"You're supposed to _trust me!" _he shouted back, and he stopped, right in the middle of the corridor, mere metres away from the doors and offices of the people that ran this hospital for profit, not patients. Sirius seethed where he stood. Minerva turned on the spot and pinned him with a glare.

"I _do _trust you. That doesn't mean I'm _right to."_

She carried on walking and stopped in front of one of the boardroom doors with a plaque - _7._

"Please, Sirius. Don't make this worse than it is. Argue your case, display your evidence, and _go," _she told him softly, not looking him in the eyes. His own were wide and staring, and his fists hung uselessly at his sides. He shook.

"That's not fair," he murmured, looking down at the grey coloured floor tiles that may have been white, once upon a time.

"I didn't say it was. I said that it was hierarchy," Minerva replied easily, and with great care, she knocked on the oak door.

It opened silently.

Sirius rushed forwards, pushing past Minerva and coming face to face with the board of governors. They sat, wordlessly, at one end of the dark wooden table, and watched him. His chest heaved and he knew his eyes were wild, and urgent.

He took a few steps forward, and sat down at the head of the table without being told. Minerva sat to the right of him, and the door closed behind her.

"Mr Black-"

"_Doctor _Black," Sirius corrected instantly. He was being accused of stealing and using hospital drugs; he wasn't going to let them go _easy._

"_Doctor _Black," the man, Something-Or-Other-Crouch, glared at him from over his spectacles. His suit looked expensive; he was even wearing a tie pin in the shape of a fox. "I think you're aware of why we've called you here."

"Of course." He offered them a wide smile, and some of them relaxed. "I'm here because I'm young and I'm only an F2; I'm easy to blame and easy to lose."

"Now, Dr. Black-" One of the women protested, sounding scandalized. Something-Umbridge. He laughed.

"It's true though, isn't it? I'm the first person you've questioned, aren't I? Not Dr. Turn- Longbottom, who also smokes like a chimney, and not Nurse McKinnon, who is so incompetent I'm surprised she knows which end of the syringe is which."

"Dr. Black, I have to insist that you-"

"Not Dorcas, who we all know wouldn't hurt a fly, except she's going through a divorce and gets headaches frequently, and would probably turn to painkillers, until they're not enough, and she's still holding the key to the medicine cabinet with all that wonderful, _pain-numbing _medication..."

Sirius stood up, and a lot of them squealed their discomfort and admonishments, each trying to sound more distressed than the last.

"And then, not Minerva - Dr. McGonagall. Because Dr. McGonagall's never put a foot wrong in her long, overly boring life.

"So excuse me if I don't sit down, and excuse me if I feel victimised. Because I'm right, aren't I? But you won't admit that, because it's profit over patients, every time, and it's down payments over doctors, too," Sirius snarled.

He pushed himself away from the table, and he left; he left Boardroom 7 and he ran down the stairs, completely skipping the welcoming elevator, and he ran and he ran until he reached the entrance to his ward.

Sirius breathed heavily through his nose, trying to calm the heartbeat that was pounding out his treachery and his disobedience.

"Sirius?" A small voice asked him, and his eyes focussed on little Peter Pettigrew. "Are you... are you alright?"

James nodded and looked at him earnestly. Lily sat up straighter, and Remus appeared soundlessly at his shoulder.

"It was the drugs, wasn't it?" he said knowingly. Sirius turned around to face him, putting his back to the others. They stayed silent; they didn't seem to mind. "They blamed you. We can vouch for you, you know. I've got it all in my book, when you were with us. You wouldn't have had time to go to the cabinet for anything but Peter's painkillers."

"Yeah, but that's what's missing." Sirius groaned into his hands, moving them upwards and massaging his aching eyes with his palms. "They're missing the bloody painkillers, and I _would've _had time if I was getting Pete's as well."

Remus didn't say anything.

"Exactly," Sirius snapped. "I'm fucked. Completely fucked. I'm supposed to be a doctor, you know? They're supposed to trust me; Jesus, _I _don't even trust me anymore!"

"Then leave."

Sirius turned at the sound of Lily's voice. She was standing up without her crutches, in all her cream-coloured-dress-and-combat-boot glory. She even had her bangles on and her messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

There was a little whimper, and Sirius' eyes widened when he saw James fall rather ungraciously into his wheelchair, with the aid of trembling Peter. Both of them were dressed in their ordinary clothes, though Peter's jumper was on inside out, judging by the label.

"What? Where are you all going?"

"We're getting out," Lily explained, and she rotated her shoulder, still in its sling. "Peter'll push James - he's got enough paracetamol to last him a while, anyway. I've only got my arm and my leg, and we both know that I can suffer through those. We're finally letting ourselves be _free." _Her grin was wild.

"What do you mean 'getting out'? This is a hospital, Lily; you don't just 'get out'. You're ill, you're all sick and you need to be treated!" Sirius argued, pushing off the hand that Peter had put on his shoulder. "Get back into bed!"

"Doc," James said slowly, "you know you can't stop us."

"He's right," Remus commented, and suddenly, Sirius realised that he had changed too, into black jeans and a faded, long sleeve shirt. His biro stuck out of his back pocket.

"Remus, you can't - you haven't had the _surgery, _you need to stay here and you need to wait for the heart. You've waited for _five years..."_

"And I can wait a few days longer." He smiled. "I've cleared it with Dr. McGonagall - we've moved it back a week. The heart will wait for me, Sirius. We won't wait for you." They all nodded in unison, and suddenly, Sirius understood what they meant.

_Leave with us._

"I can't. Really, I can't-" His voice cut off, and shamefully, he felt a lump at the back of his throat, and his eyes burned, trying to cry. He wouldn't let them.

"You just said that you're fucked. You can't stay here; and you wouldn't want to anyway. You're a good doctor, a _great _doctor, but you don't belong here. None of us do," James told him. He smirked. "I'll come back for physical therapy, my courage. Lily will come back for the baby - her brain." Lily laughed and hit him on the arm. "Remus will come back for his heart and Peter will come back so that he can finally go home. But you're not the Wizard of Oz, Sirius."

"Wait, why am I Dorothy?"

"Shut up, Pete."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just up and leave, am I?" They all shrugged.

"Don't see why not," Lily commented, and she finally attached her bag to one of the handlebars on James' wheelchair. We've all got credit cards and no families, _practically, _to go back to."

"You're alright with this?" Sirius asked Remus, who was looking nervously at his shoes. He tilted his head up, and nodded, smiling. In one shaking hand he was holding a duffel bag, and in the other, his tattered copy of _1984._

"He suggested it," James supplied, grinning up at his new friend. "Said it was about time we got out of here. We've all been complaining about how we've never really fit anywhere, and - well-"

"Do you feel it too?" Peter whispered. James and Remus nodded.

"Like there's a thread," Lily said dreamily, and, shaking her bangles as she did so, she pointed to her chest. "Just there. It pulls whenever... whenever we're not together."

"That's ridiculous!" Sirius snapped, pushing away Lily's hand. "There's no _thread. _Just because we're not exactly having the day of the year doesn't mean five strangers can swan off about London!"

"Apart from it's not just today," Remus murmured. "We've never fit in, have we? And now we have a chance. We can be - we can be insane, together, just for a week, yeah? And maybe we'll come back and maybe we won't, but either way, we'll have seven days where we can say, 'I did that. I ran out of hospital and I had the best days of my life roaming round London with those four psychos I may or may not call my friends. I did that and I loved it and I hated it, but I was there, and that's what matters.' We can say that, can't we?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well, I'm going." Lily looked down at James. "You coming too, Jamie boy? I'm not pushing you all the way."

"Hell yes," James agreed heartily, and he waved off Lily's hands. "I'll wheel myself out of this hospital, thanks. A few good pushes should do it. Pete?"

"I might as well. I might see if I'm capable of getting some half decent pictures around London - get out of weddings, maybe."

"That's the spirit!" James called, and he wheeled himself, with more than a little effort, over to the elevators. "They won't wait forever, blokes." And Lily slapped him over the head, invalid or not, and the three waited. And they watched.

"Remus-"

"No, you listen, Sirius. I'm going to follow them. And I'll take my book and my biro and I'm never going to have another cup of Hospital Cafeteria Coffee ever again, okay? And you can come with me. With us. Our own little adventure round London. Seeing the sights. Pretending to be tourists. _Living, _for a change." Remus wrung his hands, not looking Sirius in the eyes. "Maybe you can even play to us."

"How did you-"

"Your hands," Remus explained with a secretive smile. "Your fingers are long and elegant, with calluses. You shouldn't be a doctor with a face and jaw line like _that _and have calluses. You play an instrument, and you play it a lot. Piano, maybe, or violin."

"Both, actually," Sirius replied, bewildered. "And sometimes flute. It's probably what keeps me mostly sane."

"That's why I write." He looked down at _1984, _clicked his pen, and wrote a cramped _flute _on page 198, in the margin. The ink smudged. "It helps, doesn't it? Being able to vent. Having something that understands." He smiled again, knowingly this time. "You can deny it, you know, but you've tried so hard to stay away from us. You _offered _to go to paediatrics this morning. Minerva didn't tell you to.

"But you do care. You care too much. And you think that's a weakness."

"Of course it is!" He exclaimed, leaning forward and, on a whim, cupping Remus' face in his hands. "For a doctor, of course it's a weakness."

"But not for a musician," Remus told him softly. "No musician can say they don't _care."_

"Are you _coming _or _not?" _Lily screamed. James flinched in his chair and Peter covered his ears - that baby was definitely going to have a set of lungs on it. Sirius smiled, and realised that he was still holding Remus' face. He jumped backwards with a nervous laugh, but Remus just watched him gently.

"We'd better go. The lady-" Remus looked over at the trio with a smirk "-the _ladies _await."

"You're completely insane," Sirius told him vaguely, but Remus held out his hand, and he took it, because Sirius was just a little insane too.

And he may have been absolutely mad to do it, but he walked over to Lily, James and Peter with a grin, because the five of them were strangers, _but they weren't. _They understood. They were part of something, and however small that thing was, it was definitely bigger than them.

It could have been fate, or destiny, or soulmates, or any of the rubbish they talked about with tarot cards, palm readings and tea leaves. It could have been a chance meeting in a hospital between five young, controversial and eccentric young people, hell bent on getting their own way.

Because it could have been that they were brilliant and insane, so _goodbye, thank you, _and _fuck you._

Or maybe Sirius was lonely and Lily was pregnant with nowhere to go; maybe James was paralysed and Peter was falling apart. And maybe, just maybe, Remus was a mad man with a failing heart, set on saving them.

"Where to, guys and gal?" James asked with a roguish smile. Lily rolled her eyes, but Remus' answering grin was _wicked._

"Anywhere," he said wistfully. "Anywhere at all." They all stopped for a moment to think of the possibilities; drinking martinis in the Savoy until they were drunk, broke or _just plain happy, _and riding the London Eye twice, just because they could_._

They imagined nights at the West End seeing _War Horse _and _Wicked,_ and afternoons in Covent Garden, drinking tea and laughing. It sounded idyllic, _perfect, _and it was almost, oh almost, in reach.

The elevator _dinged _softly above them, and carefully, Lily pushed James past that little, invisible No-Going-Back line, followed by Peter and his camera, and then Sirius and Remus, still joined and hanging on by their fingertips.

Nobody looked at them twice when they left the hospital; and if they were smiling ever so slightly too widely, nobody stopped to tell them either.

Sirius didn't have friends; he didn't have a family.

But he _could._


	5. Pride and Prejudice

**Thanks: **Of course, thanks goes to my wonderful aging beta and wife, Paulie, who has been a steady pole in my scaffolding. Love you!

**Notes: **I'm so sorry for the lateness of this chapter (and the predicted lateness of the next) but thank you so much, all of you, for reading, and without further ado and many UST, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5 - **Pride and Prejudice

* * *

"Seriously," Sirius protested loudly as he was dragged out of the hospital by Remus, after being warned that if he didn't come quick enough, they'd tie him to a wheelchair and see how fast he could go down the stairs. "We need some sort of plan. I mean, I'm all for just "hitting the road," but we don't have money, we don't have-"

"Au contraire, my dear Watson," James pointed out, rearranged Lily's messenger bag so he could search through it, "We have a very well thought out plan that required years of research, NASA computers and my bank account."

"In other words," Remus said helpfully, "James's loaded, Lily has "connections", Peter's got his fits under control, and you and I just have to tag along for the ride."

"Seriously?"

"Look, Black," Lily drawled, slapping James' hands away with one hand and pushing back her hair with her cast, "We are going to have a good time. If we have to go back, we go back. If not..." She shrugged. "We'll see."

"I don't get how you can all just _do _this!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. "I mean, family, friends, homes, _everything... _Are we seriously just leaving it all behind for a little outing with the other mad patients on Minnie's ward for the incurably insane?"

"That's quite catchy, actually," Remus commented, whipping out _1984. _"_Minnie's ward - _no, no, not ward." He scribbled out one of the words, his tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated.

Sirius gulped.

"What about band?" Peter asked, nervously wringing his hands as they entered the hospital car park. "You know, a band of merry men and all that..."

"Perfect!" He slapped Peter on the back, dabbed his biro on his tongue, and started writing again, the words twisting round the border of the page. _"Minnie's band of the incurably insane..."_

"You're only supposed to do that with quills, you know," Sirius commented, but he was suitably ignored. "But, you know, go ahead... get ink poisoning. See if I care." He crossed his arms over his chest, then let them hang by his sides when he realised he sounded like a petulant child that had been denied a lolly.

"Ink poisoning, schmink poisoning," Remus mumbled round the nib of his pen.

"Look, we can't just _wander _about... We don't have any of our stuff, any _transport..."_

"Dear God, Doc," James said, rolling his eyes, "This is _London. _Black cabs, the Underground, double-deckers... It's endless. Plus, there's only five feet between every bar, so we won't exactly be travelling _far, _will we?" They all stared at him. "Oh, _come on."_

"Where do you live, Sirius?" Peter asked.

Nobody dared to speak.

An ambulance sped past, jolting the five of them. Nervously, Sirius looked back at the hospital - white and looming and silent.

"A few minutes away," he replied cautiously, and he slung his bag over his shoulder. "I mean, we can stay there for the night... It's not big - F2 London salary and all that - but it'll do."

"Perfect!" Lily rubbed her hands together, grasping James' wheelchair handles again and pushing him viciously over a speed bump. He yelped, causing her to laugh and pat his head like a child. "That sounds like a plan. What do you say, Remus?"

"I'm up for it," Remus murmured, making another note in his book. "Hmm... I wrote F2 phonetically and I don't really know why."

"Really? Phonetically?" Lily asked, marching ahead and giving James no mercy. "So... what? Eff-Too?"

"Fuck," he said, looking down at _1984. _"I spelt it wrong." They all stopped and stared at him. He shrugged, and closed the book. "I suppose it makes it more interesting?"

"Interesting," Peter muttered, shaking his head, just as they reached the gates of the hospital car park. They reached the end of the road. "Right, where are we going?" He turned to Sirius, who sighed, and pointed left. Lily led the way, while Sirius and Remus trailed behind.

"Have you ever heard of shampoo?" They heard Lily ask from the front. Sirius sighed again.

"Why are we doing this? Are you aware of how utterly _insane _we are?" he wondered aloud, thinking that, an hour ago, he had been treating James in a hospital bed and getting ready to give Peter his painkillers.

Now, he was tempted to take Peter's painkillers for himself.

Which, to be honest, had started this whole mess.

"Pretty much," Remus replied, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "_The trees were all giants, tall, empty and mild; inside they were weeping and inside they were wild. _Nah, I don't like that." He scratched a line through the text.

"That poor book," Sirius commented, looking at the tattered pages. "Somewhere, Shakespeare's rolling in his grave."

"He's not rolling, obviously. He's dramatically turning his back on the world, clutching his long lost play to his chest. _God, _what I wouldn't give to break open Shakespeare's grave."

"And steal his corpse?"

"It'd go with the rest of my collection."

They both stared at each other, and burst into laughter; the world was insane, and if you couldn't beat them... you might as well join them in the mental asylum.

"Oh come on, you lovers!" Lily called back in a West Country accent; Sirius and Remus stared at her in shock and awe; and slight fear as well. James high fived Peter, who wiped his hands on his trousers afterwards, making James sigh audibly.

"Say that again, Evans?" Remus shouted to the front, where Lily threw her head back and laughed into the wind.

The musician in Sirius - the artist, the composer, the one who wanted to carry round a violin and piano in his back pocket - wanted to play a tune there. A light-hearted piece that spoke of autumn and London and being Lily Evans.

His fingers twitched, and Remus smiled.

"The artist's itch, right?"

"What?" Sirius asked, still moving his fingers as though they floated over notes and keys, bows and strings.

"The artist's itch. You want to draw, write, playwhatever you see or feel. We all get it, like a little brainwave that says _create create create. _The little itch in the back of your mind that _wants, _more than anything. It wants that canvas, that notebook, that music score; the paintbrush, the pen, the pencil.

"The artist _wants; _it's what we _do."_

"That was very poetic," Sirius commented, a little bewildered. It wasn't just him; _it wasn't just him._

"Exactly," Remus replied with a wink, catching up with Lily and starting an irrelevant conversation about socks. Peter hung back, taking over James wheelchair. They reached the end of Oxford Street and Sirius instructed them to turn left.

"Come along now, slow coach!" James called, laughing and wheeling his chair hastily over a raised piece of pavement. He jumped, defying gravity for one heart-stopping moment, then cleanly came back down.

"Jesus Christ, James, you're an accident waiting to happen," Lily snorted.

"_Lily," _Sirius warned. She fell silent.

"S'alright, Doc," James said cheerily, running a hand through his hair, making it spike up at the back. Hastily he patted it back down again. "I've kind of got used to it now. Plan a hospital break out with somebody and you start to have a special connection."

"I'm feeling it," Peter chimed in, ruffling Lily's hair and making her squirm. "We've got a _bond."_

"James Bond?" Remus asked, looking up from _1984._

"I wish," James sighed. "I mean, _Sean Connery..._"

"You have a guy crush on Sean Connery," Lily said dully, staring at James with hope in her eyes. He smiled back. She was forgiven.

"Well, who hasn't? _The name's Bond. James Bond. _I would kill to have someone whisper sweet nothings to me in a Sean Connery accent. Literally. Sirius? Peter? My childhood best friend? _You? _Gone. In an instant. Just let me have that."

"You have a strange sense of humour, James," Sirius said, slightly scared by the manic gleam in his eyes. "Slightly... macabre."

"That wasn't humour, Doc," he waved him off, leaning back in his wheelchair. "That was the _truth."_

He shook his head, then looked up. He crossed the street, powering his way past Lily, who was still muttering _"Sean Connery..." _under her breath, Peter - who was looking at James as though he was waiting for him to pull a knife out from under all that hair - and turned the street corner.

In front of him stood a block of Victorian flats, like the ones you see in papers; smaller versions of Downing Street. With more loft space and less politics.

"Welcome to my humble abode."

Sirius spread out his arms, and bowed deeply. Remus applauded as he made his way to the door.

"_Fancy," _Lily smirked, fingering the doorknob expertly. From her hair she pulled a hair clip and -

"I have the keys, Lily."

"Well, fine. Ruin my fun," she grumbled, stepping back and letting Sirius push his keys carefully into the lock, waiting for the soft _click _and sighing when it worked. His land lord had a habit of changing the lock at inopportune moments - like 12 at night after a long shift and no sleep.

He led his way up the stairs, past 56 and 58 - both dodgy, if you asked him - and finally, up to 60. Behind him, Peter, Remus and Lily (who proved herself to be the strongest of the group) carried James carefully up to the top floor.

"What's wrong with the ground level?" Peter groaned, clicking his back back into place. "Or, you know what? Underground. Underground is _good."_

"Please," Lily said, rolling her eyes, "You were only carrying one side. I was carrying the back, and the weight of his _head. _Do you know how big that thing is?"

"All the better to think lewd thoughts about you, my dear," James quipped, leading the way into the apartment. "Ohh, a massive microwave!" He wheeled over to the kitchen to inspect the dials on said microwave.

"I can't cook," Sirius shrugged. "You expect me to live on Super Noodles without a decent microwave?"

"Look at those _books!" _Remus said happily, walking over to the bookcase that took up basically the whole flat. "_Catch 22_... _Lord of the Flies... Harry Potter... _Seriously? _Pride and Prejudice_?" He held up an ornate, hard back cover of Jane Austen's novel.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, go through all my stuff. See if I care." He peeked into his bedroom, where Lily was snooping through his drawers. "Stay out of my underwear, Evans!"

"With pleasure, Black!" she shouted back, closing one of the cabinets with a _bang._

"It's nice," Peter commented, looking out of one of the windows. "How the hell did you get this on a doctor's salary?"

"Fucked the landlord." Peter choked.

"Was he fit?" James called from the kitchen, looking through his fridge. "And do you actually own anything other than Super Noodles, beer and... is that _Cadbury's?"_

"He was a work of art," Sirius assured him, coming up behind James and putting the chocolate back in the fridge. "And don't touch the supplies. That is what I survive on; also, hospital cafeteria coffee, trashy romance novels and the odd ice cream."

"Did you really shag the landlord?" Lily asked, feminine curiosity losing out to the feminine need for gossip.

"_Yes, _but that's not how I got the flat."

"So how did you? And are you really gay or was it - what do you call it? Experimentation? Bi-curiusity? Something like that," James added, wheeling into the room, skipping past a TV guide and inspecting one of Sirius' unexplained single socks over the sofa.

"_Yes, _I am gay, and I got it because my parents were horrible rich bastards who started to feel guilty after I proved I had an eye for medicine as well as music." He looked over at Remus. "You know, for someone who was so disgusted by its presence, you're definitely enjoying _Pride and Prejudice."_

"Hey, at least it's not _Gone With The Wind, _and plus-" He waved the novel in the air. "- Austen wasn't a complete romantic. Just a cynical as the rest of us, I reckon, deep down."

"So what's the plan then?" Peter asked, plonking himself down on the sofa and kicking off his shoes with difficulty. "We staying here, or...?"

"We can probably kip here tonight, right?" Lily said, joining him on one of the cushions on the floor. "Then move on tomorrow, book a hotel, trash Harrods... that kind of thing."

"I am not trashing Harrods," Sirius said sternly, whipping _Pride and Prejudice _out of Remus' hands and replacing it on the shelf. "I've probably already got a criminal record for kidnapping four of my critical patients. And I'm probably sacked. If Minnie doesn't get to me first and rip off my head with her teeth."

"Please," Remus told him, "She wouldn't get her hands dirty. She'd probably get the other doctors and nurses to tear you limb from limb while she watched on in dry amusement."

Sirius nodded in agreement.

"Then she'd pull on those latex gloves, the ones that smell funny, and pull out your intestines and cook them on the barbecue."

"And then she'd hang you from the hospital roof, and dance around your broken body, chanting and laughing and rewriting your will so that everything is left to her," Lily added with a sick, twisted smile on her face as she imagined the scene.

"Finally, she'll throw your corpse in the Thames and wait years for it to decompose before fishing it out again and nailing it to her door as a warning to others," Peter finished with a flourish.

"Well, I'm glad we've got my death all sorted," Sirius said sarcastically, flopping down on the floor and covering his eyes with his arm. "Charmed to meet you all, by the way."

"Our pleasure," they all chanted back in unison.

"So what are we doing then? Movie?" James asked, rolling up beside the sofa and very narrowly avoiding Sirius' toes. "Final Destination, anybody?"

"Dear God, no," Lily replied. "No lame, boys' night action movies. I refuse. As the only girl here, I resolve to have final pick." All the other four stared at her. "_With _the exception of being overruled if I chose any chick flicks or date night romantic comedies."

"Thank God," Peter groaned. "I had, like, nineteen girl cousins when I was younger. Do you know how much I suffered? Traumatised, I was."

"Damaged people are dangerous," Remus said wisely. "They don't know when to stop."

Lily blinked. "So... The Hangover?"

A chorus of, _"Yes, dear god, yes!" _and one lone shout of, _"I swear, if you even _think _of putting on Hangover 2, the one _without _the tiger song, then I will make you suffer a fate worse than Sirius'..."_

They all huddled round the sofa, and Sirius sat up as Remus joined him on the floor. _1984 _appeared again, and Sirius recognised _Pride and Prejudice _being written in the margin, and Remus didn't even look away from the television as he started to sketch something in the top right hand corner.

Lily groaned and hit the DVD player with her cast and her good arm simultaneously. Sirius heard rather than saw her collapse on James' lap.

Sirius closed his eyes just as Peter shouted, "Dear god, people! My eyes! They burn! Get a bloody room that the rest of us aren't in, will you?" and Lily giggled manically and he could practically _hear _James' grin. Remus' breathing slowed.

"So you two finally got round to it, then?" he asked without opening his eyes. He lifted up his hand, and James - he thought, anyway - high fived it.

"I thought you were already married," Remus commented. "Now, are we going to watch this movie or not? And no making out in the back seat, you know how it annoys Father so." Sirius opened his eyes to see Remus grinning at Peter, who had crossed his arms and was looking at all of them with a displeased expression.

He laughed louder than he had for a long time.

"It took you long enough," Peter mumbled, mainly to himself, and Lily smirked.

"I'd say I was playing hard to get, but..." She shrugged, and planted a kiss of James' cheek, watching Peter the whole time and winking at him. Both men coloured.

"You're sleeping on separate ends of the floor, lovebirds," Sirius warned them, swatting Lily's hand away and sighing.

"The Doc's just sad that he's not getting any," James commented, before gesturing to his wheelchair. "My legs don't even work and I can get a girl. Also, I call dibs on the bed, seeing as you guys can walk and all." Remus grumbled something, and moved onto the sofa that the rest of the clan had eventually vacated.

"Suit yourself. If you find any magazines, gimme," he mumbled.

"Dear God."

"Cheer up, Sirius!" Peter smiled at him, getting more comfortable and gesturing to the television screen. "They could have subjected you to Twilight. At least you have a mediocre movie to enjoy."

"There is nothing mediocre about The Hangover!" Lily shouted. They all nodded, and looked back at the film, which started to turn pink. Peter groaned, shaking his head and hitting it. Multiple times. Lily eventually shouted at him and went to fix it herself.

"You have two copies," Remus whispered suddenly.

"What?" Sirius asked. Peter left, then returned with a glass of water and two paracetamol, and he winced in sympathy. Remus himself was pale, and breathing heavily, and he knew he couldn't do anything at all, until they got him back to hospital.

What the hell had they been thinking anyway?

He shook his head. That was exactly that. They hadn't been thinking at all.

"You have... two copies... of _Pride and Prejudice," _Remus told him slowly, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes, even as Lily jumped in triumph and hugged James when she finally got the ancient box telly to work.

"And you need to concentrate on breathing, not talking," Sirius admonished, sighing slightly. "We're all fucking idiots, just _leaving _like that..."

"Would you have preferred for us to stay there and go mad?" he asked honestly, leaning up and looking Sirius in the eyes. His eyes weren't blue at all, Sirius realised suddenly; they were amber, like liquid gold, but at the moment they were dark, almost black.

"I would have preferred that to watching you die," he replied without thinking, _again, _and Remus chuckled.

"I've got a bit of life in me yet," Remus said in amusement, looking round at the five of them. Lily was now sitting on James' lap, playfully shielding the television from view, and Peter was groaning at the side lines about public displays of affection, and unresolved sexual tension, and other such rubbish before loudly exclaiming how they hadn't even kissed yet. "We all have."

"And you're all mad anyway, so I don't see what difference it makes," Sirius grumbled, watching as Lily, combat-boot wearing Lily Evans who swore at baby ducks if they got in her way, blushed as red as her hair.

"Different type of mad," Remus told him surely. "Completely different."

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, belatedly realising that no one was watching the film anyway. It didn't matter. "How so?"

He shrugged, and went back to watching the film, his handing creeping up to rest on his chest as his breath stuttered in his throat and his face paled further. He didn't look away from the television screen.

"No one chooses to be insane. Some of us embrace it. Others fight it. The different types depend on whether or not you succeed either way."


End file.
